The Only One
by short-skirtbluescarf
Summary: "I'm the only one who really knows what you're like, remember?" The short-lived "relationship" between Sherlock and the clever beauty from the wedding from her POV. Fluff, confessions, and a romantic side of Sherlock that is too good to be true. Events that made her think he was the one and information he used to solve the dangerous case. (T rating for now) ON HIATUS!
1. A Good Morning

**I wish there were more SH/J fanfics out there (and I'm shamefully intrigued by the unknown details of their little fling) so I decided to give it a go. I don't ship them but they were really fun and- lets be honest- who wouldn't want to be the girl BBC canon Sherlock Holmes has taken an interest in? Right? It's already been fun to write!Hope you enjoy the first chapter and we'll see where it goes from there =) **

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She had danced with someone else at the wedding reception but it wasn't because she wanted to. The poor guy had been trying to flirt with her all night, a pitiful yet flattering affair. Sherlock had made serious eye contact with her several times after he threw his boutonniere to her. She never wanted him to stop playing the enchanting violin melody but had been pleasantly surprised—more like blissfully shocked—at the sweet gesture.

It was clear that Sherlock Holmes didn't have many friends. Yet it was equally clear that it wasn't only the newlyweds Sherlock had a soft spot for. John and Mary were his top pick, obviously. But the man cared for a few others: the always giggling landlady, the older charming detective, the little mousey thing who couldn't take her hands off her recent fiancé, and…her?

They had only spent a few hours together but she felt as if they had a special connection. If someone were to ask the great Holmes man if he knew her, he wouldn't be able to deny the acquaintance. People had seen them chatting together several times throughout the day- besides their maid of honor and best man duties. The way he looked at her when saying "the beautiful" during his speech had made her stomach fill with butterflies she hadn't felt in months. Then the boutonniere incident. And lastly, the moment his search for her among the thick crowd ended- had it been disappointment or regret on that sexy face? They never had their big moment on the dance floor and he wasn't the only one who noticed.

She tried looking for him afterwards for the very next dance, another chipper upbeat tune, but he had vanished. If he had only been there, she would have given him the remainder of the night's dances- every last one of them.

So there she was, lying half naked in her bed wishing she could have seen him leave. She would have chased him then would have convinced him to return to the party. The innocent and devilish thoughts of what could have happened nearly drove her mad. None of her dreams had been remembered this morning but she wouldn't have been surprised if he had been in them a time or two.

The _things_ she would have done to that man.

Her mobile buzzed on the night stand beside her bed.

"Whoever you are and whatever you want, the answer is _no_," the Irish accent groaned.

Janine threw the silky red duvet over her head and released another high pitched whine. Couldn't she just have one day to lay in bed and watch telly? Yesterday's wedding had really taken it out of her. One extremely lazy day of rest wouldn't be so bad. Would it?

Her mobile buzzed a second time. Two short buzzes meant two missed texts, which wasn't as important as a missed call. Poking her head out from the covers, she released a heavy sigh before officially starting her day.

"Fine. What is it?" she conversed with herself.

Living alone did that to a person. Then again, she was proud to have a job that gave her the opportunity to live alone. Girls were more trouble than they were worth anyways- much less living with one.

**-Good morning beautiful SH**

**-Wake up. I'm taking you to breakfast :) SH**

Her heart instantly began beating against her ribcage. Though it was just a text message, she smoothed down the dark morning tangles of her hair. Eyes were rubbed, lips were covered by a hand, and another deep breath was taken all in a second. Such a response was acceptable for a secondary school girl but she was a grown woman. A grown woman with a bloody mad crush on Sherlock Holmes.

"What do I say?" she giggled to herself, sitting in the middle of her bed feeling like Cinderella with an invitation to the grand mask.

**-Hello you. Just woke up. When and where for breakfast? J**

Janine popped out of bed faster that necessary. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so giddy. Thousands of lasses in London would give ridiculous amounts and assets for such an opportunity. And _he_ had texted _her_!

_Must have seen something he liked_, she grinned to herself while prancing into the walk in closet- clutching her mobile for dear life. Here came the difficult bit: what to wear. Would he prefer something more casual or should she show off for their first… date? Is that what this was? Surely the man didn't include smiley faces in many outgoing texts. That made her special, didn't it? Another buzz felt like the perfect answer to her unspoken question.

**-I'll pick you up via cab. Thirty minutes enough time? SH**

Her school girl smirk felt immature but she didn't care enough to resist. After last night's disappointment, she wouldn't miss a single chance to make up for it today.

**-You don't even know where I live J**

He said thirty minutes but she wondered where he was. What if he lived more than thirty minutes away? Was he already dressed and ready for their breakfast_ thing_? It was too many questions for only being awake ten minutes. And the excitement wasn't helping her still hazy mental state. Sherlock was more than intelligent and probably had everything planned long before his first text was sent. Why was she worrying?

"What to wear?" the anxious young female fretted, doing her best to stay focused.

Another vibration.

**-I know ****_everything_**** SH**

"I bet you do," she grinned like a fool, a foreign sensation growing deep in her still fluttering stomach.

**-Thirty minutes then. See you soon Sherlock Holmes ;) J**

When her eyes lifted from the mobile screen, they landed on the perfect outfit for this unexpected occasion. It was like a sign or something like fate. All that was missing was the heavenly light from above.

"What a beautiful start to the perfect day," she chuckled with complete satisfaction.


	2. Cab Ride

**Wow, didn't expect so much love so soon. Thanks to all readers who survived the introduction chapter and braved their way to chapter two! These first few chapts set the story up but things will get moving along soon enough. Good things (possibly REALLY good things) come to those who wait ;) A special thanks to reviewers: hatondog, iocane and cough drops, Anon, and Mia! Let me know what you think! Love hearing from readers!**

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She would have compared him to a knight riding towards her on his noble steed. But that simply wasn't Sherlock's style- a fact that both amused and delighted her. As the consulting detective's cab rolled to a stop outside of her West London flat, Janine practiced hiding her girlish excitement. Maybe there would come a day or night when her insides didn't go topsy-turvy when he was around her or sent her texts. But that day wasn't today and probably wouldn't be tomorrow either. She was fairly clever, clever enough to know not to get her hopes too high for too long. After all, this was Sherlock Holmes.

The cab stopped as her pulse sky rocketed. The door opened just as she had begun to make out his unmistakable silhouette. With unusually shaky knees, she walked with every bit of confidence she had built earlier in the morning- the cream colored dress with a horizontal red stripe did wonders for her curvy figure. One bright red high heel lifted into the car before the rest of her gracefully floated into the car- a surprise to even herself.

Once she was completely inside, door closed, and car rolling to their unknown destination, Janine gave a flirty grin to the other, handsome but silent, passenger. He was staring a hole into the back of the passenger seat up front. Any second, a swirling trail of smoke would start rising from the specific spot those mesmerizing eyes were latched onto. Silence and a sculpture-like Sherlock. Too many seconds passed this way for comfort.

After a quiet half giggle, she leaned closer towards him and announced, "You might just be prettier than the last time I saw you." The melodic Irish accented words were followed by a kiss on his cheek.

The man jumped as if he hadn't noticed her until the skin to skin contact had been made. His expression of puzzlement and wonder were nothing short of adorable- but she couldn't let on that she noticed.

"Hello," she grinned once their eyes finally met, that annoying but welcomed giddiness returning without permission.

"Hello," the handsome devil replied, her presence noticed at last. "I take it you just got in?"

"You opened the door for me from the inside," she reminded him, more entertained by the creature with each minute they spent together.

"I don't remember," Sherlock confessed with an unexpected cute boyish sort of embarrassment.

"No worries," the still smiling, and slightly blushing, girl assured.

Clearly he was as rubbish at all this as she was. Perhaps they could remind eachother how to do the dating game. Maybe he could even teach her a thing or two none of the other blokes could.

_Come on, Janine_, she scolded herself. _Get your mind out of the gutter. Minimal expectations, minimal disappointment and or heartache. _

"So where are we going? I'm starved!"

Fighting the impulse to curl her arm around his was difficult. Not touching him, even just to gage his reactions, was more difficult than expected.

"A little place I meet posh female clients," he answered matter of factly.

"I'm not a client," she laughed, confused and taken off guard by his statement.

_Her_? A _client_? The very idea was mad. Her life had been quite good lately. It had been better at times but she was content with the details of her life at present- even the dull ones.

"Aren't you?"

Those just friendly eyes had suddenly become icy, studying her. He searched for any faltering signs of any lie she could toss him.

"What are you going on about?"

Her pulse was still high but now for a different reason. He was certainly keeping to his reputation- unpredictable and missing social cues right and left.

"You don't have any trouble… at work?"

His question first shocked then startled her. Who had he talked to? Or had he _deduced_ it? Though his unexpected motive for breakfast was disheartening, she wasn't about to end the date because he had asked a personal question in the first two minutes of their date. Freaking out would do nothing for her so Janine forced herself calm.

"Alright, smarty," she replied with one corner of her perfectly painted lips curved upwards. "Let me have it." Oh she wished she could say that to him sometime soon in a very different context. A week or two would be nice.

"The most obvious clue was your avoiding all conversations having to do with your occupation throughout all wedding festivities. You said you worked for a newspaper in the city. A simple Google search of your name would have told me everything I needed to know but those are insulting to both the person in question and the researcher. Which leads me to the details that scream you are in quite the occupational dilemma. You're quite clever with years of experience. You notice a decent amount of what goes on around you, as any good slave of the newsstands. Your style of dress and the way you carry yourself—the few times we've seen one another—suggests a well-respected place of business- needing to look professional on and off the job because you represent someone with a widely known name. All newspapers are prideful but you don't merely represent a company but an actual _name_, a person with a sturdy reputation. Not many papers are associated with a single face but those that do narrow things a bit more. If you had worked for any mundane employer, your job wouldn't be such a secret. But you are cautious, too cautious to go throwing trivial information around. So you're intimidated by your boss, above and beyond regular pride in your job. Not only intimidated but perhaps…scared."

"I'm not scared of anything," she boldy interrupted.

"The only one in the paper business that could make such an independent, mildly intelligent, confident woman cautious enough to avoid chat about work is-"

"CAM." The nickname was a near whisper, doing everything possible to speak in enough code that the suddenly interested cabbie would remain in the dark.

"CAM," Holmes repeated in a less icy tone than used during his ramblings. He spoke and took the expression of an understanding friend, ready to help lift the burden of her terrible secret.

"Here, sir," the middle aged man declared, unsure of what to make of the most fascinating drive of his ten year career.

"Ladies first." Sherlock quoted the idiotic phrase as politely as he could muster.

Chivalry had also managed a spot on the list of social cues he was rubbish at. The driver was paid as Janine stepped out and into the city streets. Sherlock closed the door then smoothed the chest of the iconic long gray coat- the most brilliant coat she had ever seen. She awkwardly followed as he led them down two blocks of the city, that shy boyish manner returning. Once again, the duty of breaking the ice a second time fell to her- just as the first.

"So what is my case exactly?"

"No complaints concerning the blackmail and multiple types of abuse your employer puts you through?"

His eyebrow was quirked upwards in a slightly comical way. He honestly thought she would jump at the chance to tell someone of the many horrors that were her job. Well he was wrong. She wasn't just any girl, as he so kindly pointed out before. What was it? _An independent, clever, confident woman_. No, sir. She didn't need some bloke—Sherlock Holmes or otherwise—making her a charity project.

"We have an agreement, he and I," she finally confessed, that feminine smug confidence returning. "Made it when I was interviewed for the job."

Oh, he was more than attentive now. She could see it in every sharp feature of his face. Those eyes telling her everything she needed to know.

"And that was…?"

"I told him that if I was going to work for him, he stayed out of my personal life. Made him sign a contract that ensured the privacy of all my personal records. He doesn't know anything beyond what I have told him. I go above and beyond the call of personal assistant, he keeps his distance."

"A bit risky don't you think?" That proud glimmer and smirk made her stomach flip.

"Not as risky as taking his PA to breakfast."

"And why is that risky?"

"Sherlock Holmes taking some random woman out for a meal in a posh restaurant? Someone might get a good story about that. At least a decent photo. CAM sees the story in someone else's paper or magazine, we both go on his list."

He considered her words for half a second before an indifferent shrug.

"I'm already on his list. And if you think he'll honor his part of your 'contract' you're more stupid than I thought."

She wouldn't have let it get to her if it had been said by anyone else. Anyone else in the world. But being placed on some step latter of a pedestal by the ingenious man only to be ripped off it hurt more than anticipated. He was making her doubt the security she had always put ninety percent faith in- the other ten percent for when she actually gave Magnussen reason to come against her.

_If he knew where you were right now, that could very well be reason enough. Foolish girl_, she warned herself.

Anything to go back to the flirty mood they had experienced last night. Where was the man who had searched the entire crowd looking for her?

"Did you ask me to breakfast for business or pleasure, Mr. Holmes? I get the feeling I'm being interrogated."

"You've never heard of mixing business with pleasure?" he teased, that charming challenging smirk making a lovely return.

"Not from the likes of you," she laughed with her own witty grin. Their walk ended rather abruptly. When he didn't reply, staring into a crowded little establishment too cute to be real, she took his hand and pulled him inside. "Feed me or I might find someone else for company."

_Never going to forget this day_, she mused to herself when his face turned into a full smile of contentment.


End file.
